Kidō Revision
by Lunatic Howling in the Night
Summary: Re-writing history is the simple part. The hard part is getting away with it while Aizen and everyone else are watching. Timetravel. No pairings.
1. Gambit

**Kidō Revision**

 _A/N: I don't quite know what inspired this idea._

 _I write as my eyes let me, so yes, there's other chapters for other things still on the way, slowly but surely._

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Gambit**

It was pouring rain, just like it had done so long ago. A cascade of liquid ran down Ichigo's nose as he remained stubbornly frozen to the saturated grass beneath him. Slowly cooling, his mother's corpse left him paralysed under her weight. A Hollow laugh echoed amidst the downpour and his mother's crumpled, lifeless features stared emptily ahead in the rain. Devoid of powers. Devoid of soul. The Grand Fisher never should've had the opportunity in the first place, yet he did because of one person. It gave Ichigo some vindictive pleasure that Yhwach's attempt to claim her soul in its totality had been foiled by a Hollow's hunger.

A giggle.

A scream of primal fury and darkness. Ichigo slumped limply to the ground, unaware of the hands grasping at him.

"Ya know King, I somehow don't think that we're meant to be here." Trembling, Ichigo turned to face his unusually sombre body double. "At least this far back, you know when…" Zangetsu trailed off, his wielder looking blankly ahead as the heavens above began to torrent down. Horizontal skyscrapers gleamed dimly in the mist as two figures, one a great deal shorter than the other, remained motionless.

They remained that way for a little while longer. "This isn't a sick dream, is it?" Ichigo asked tiredly. He rubbed his forehand with the palm of a hand.

"Hell if I know, but it feels real enough. Back to the olden days, oh boy, what joy." Zangetsu casually scratched at some phantom itch with the halt of himself. "Didn't even know it was possible, but there you go."

"Do you think Aizen's still watching us?" Ichigo asked tonelessly. Even that thought left him drained.

"Probably, as if that bastard would miss out on this sort of prime time viewing. We know Grand Fisher was one of his in the first place from its cloaking." His Hollow frowned. "That's gonna be a problem actually."

"You mean when he realises that we're way ahead of the curve for no apparent reason?"

"That and when the first thing we do when we arrive in Soul Society is tear Fox-Face's arm off and beat him to death with it." Zangetsu grinned ferociously.

Ichigo winced. "You're taking this a lot better than I am. I…" He trailed off. Somewhere off in the distance a slice of building shattered and tumbled into the abyss below.

"Oh, cheer up! Think of all the people we can maim! Yhwach, Aizen, Ichimaru, Tōsen, that spineless worm Kuchiki for a second time. So many asses to kick, so little time. And we can even kick the crap out of your Quincy powers for a second time too!" With relish, Zangetsu's blade was flung sideways at the unobtrusive middle-aged man who was perched a short distance away. Zangetsu's Quincy counterpart swayed serenely and jumped elegantly to another landing.

"Like that'll fix anything," Ichigo snorted and shook his head. "We can't just run around stabbing everything. All that'll do is piss people off. No one apart Aizen even knows who I am yet. It's not like there's any trust to shield me from some maniac like Kurotsuchi."

"You are wise to have realised this Ichigo. For now Aizen is not the main threat. He will wait and watch from a distance as he did before. Even now though, Kurotsuchi is active, harvesting the souls of Quincy for his research." Yhwach's younger form flicked into view, long-fingered hands tucked neatly into pockets.

Ichigo looked upwards at them, before blinking and looking down at himself. "And what do you want me to do about it? I'm nine." Ichigo gestured with a tiny hand. "Am I even big enough to hold either of you yet?"

"Nope!" Zangetsu leered, cackling maniacally. "You'd probably slice one of your feet off if you tried."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh come on King, you could always just wing it with Kidō. If you bothered to learn it." Another fit of laughter.

Sharp retort on his tongue, Ichigo paused for his Quincy powers had turned to observe his Shinigami powers with a contemplative look. "That is not an altogether poor idea," the Quincy said quietly. "Kidō usage is not dissimilar to your own capacity for reishi manipulation. Shaping it operates on the same principles."

"You've got to be joking. None of us know the first thing about Kidō." Ichigo and his Hollow exchanged looks as they spoke at the same time.

"Look forward, Ichigo! You have another chance to prevent tragedies and curtail the actions of the actors on this stage. Not only Aizen, but Kurotsuchi, Urahara, the Central 46 and others who have committed grave injustices." Being yelled at by his Quincy powers was somewhat nostalgic. Another towering skyscraper teetering on the edge of oblivion held its place as Ichigo considered the path before him.

Ichigo ducked as a blade of white sailed over head.

"Oi. Where the hell did you even get that from? I thought we reforged it."

"What?" The Hollow asked all too innocently. "You were zoning out. This one I can throw without Bankai too," it replied with an all too evil smile.

"You just want me to say yes!" Ichigo shouted back, dodging another flail.

"We're you, you idiot, of course we want you to say yes! The entire point of being here is to motivate you to say yes."

"I don't know what I'm doing with Kidō!" Ichigo yelled, ducking again.

"We never know what we're doing with anything. What's new?" His spirit screamed back.

A blast of white energy knocked them apart, Yhwach's form marching in and hoisting them both by the scruff of their necks.

"Enough stalling. Do you agree?"

"Yes, I agree that we need to do something different" Ichigo ground out from clenched teeth, legs kicking uselessly in the air, "but how the hell am I meant to learn anything when I've got no teacher?"

"Simple, you teach yourself," the Hollow said with a huff.

Ichigo stared blankly. "How?"

"How did you end up an Honours student at school?" The Hollow asked, with an air of someone watching a tooth extraction.

"I studied my ass off." Ichigo frowned. "That only works though when I actually have material to study. Where are we going to find anything here on Kidō?"

"Urahara's shop," the Quincy suggested.

"Your old man might have some crap lying around," the Hollow offered.

"Uryuu's grandfather is still alive. He can no doubt offer an outside perspective of the Quincy variant."

"Bust into the Sereitei and steal some books. Never know, Aizen might volunteer some if you ask nicely."

Ichigo tilted his head and shook himself out of the grip of his Quincy powers' grip. "Not bad, but there's one little problem with all of those ideas. I'm not meant to know about any of these people."

"We could always have an accident with a Hollow. You know, a real proper looking one," Zangetsu spoke, still hanging in mid-air, grinning with far too many teeth.

"That's gonna be hard with Aizen not letting anything in. I always thought it was Urahara keeping the place clear, but he never left his shop until Aizen kicked that Gillian through ." Ichigo tapped his foot impatiently.

"Don't see why that's so surprising. First thing Aizen wanted to do with his Hollow powers was take a bite out of you," Zangetsu folded his arms, a glint in his yellow eyes.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo demanded, his Hollow continuing to giggle.

"You worked it out once Ichigo, you'll manage it a second time. It's something to think about," his inverted clone finished in a more subdued tone. "As for finding a Hollow, if we can find someone distressed enough we can just wait for them to turn into one. If Aizen was screwing with the patrols coming out to Karakura Town then we can probably bet that just about no one was sending on spirits to the Rukongai. That's a lot of misery." Another shrug.

Ichigo grimaced. "I can't use Konsō without revealing you guys either." His Hollow's earlier words of Aizen's watchful gaze being problematic came rushing back. Anything Ichigo did would be dissected by the man, examined, rolled around and contemplated until all information had been sapped from it then dumped into some deep archive of stalker knowledge Aizen probably kept bound in a book on his desk. Ichigo wouldn't be surprised if there was seventy-four volumes of it, with numerous accompanying novels. "Aizen's gonna know about anything weird we do."

"Then perhaps," Zangetsu's Quincy half began in a mild tone of voice, "we should engage upon "weird" activities where we are less experienced."

The lights flashed on upstairs and suddenly the solution appeared as if it had always been present. "You want me to mislead him."

"Bingo, Your Majesty, you're catching on. We mislead the hell out of him, Urahara and every other bastard watching." Hollow and Quincy both nodded firmly.

"We out-Aizen Aizen," Ichigo confirmed numbly. Both spirits once again nodded firmly.

"Ichigo, Aizen's greatest deception was not in his behaviour, but his willingness not to correct others in their perceptions of his behaviour," the Quincy offered. "All you need do is allow people to come to _natural_ conclusions."

Ichigo sat heavily on the glass below, crossing his legs and considered what he knew of Hueco Mundo's overlord. Aizen had manipulated his way through the ranks of the Gotei 13 with Kyōka Suigetsu in hand. Absences could be excused with illusions. Implicit growth in skill could be hidden with explicit ignorance. Controversial views concealed by empty topics and empty words or by saying nothing at all. Aizen's methodology turned molehills into mountains, swamps into gardens and dragonflies into dragons, yet all that remained of Aizen as a person was a shallow façade not even Gin had seen through after a century. His least memorable traits were emphasised and his greatest ones diminished. Aizen the illusion was hollow. Aizen the person was unknown because no one ever found enough contradictions to suggest otherwise. Ichigo honestly wondered what would happen if someone engaged Aizen in a normal conversation over a prolonged period of time. They'd probably be impaled ten minutes in, but Ichigo supposed that there could be outliers.

"You guys do realise that this guy's been feeding people bullshit for over a hundred years, right? Probably even two-hundred." Ichigo asked tiredly.

"And? We still kicked his ass and we only had a year of practice," Zangetsu said, examining his dark nails.

"Yeah, in his weakest area."

"Even in his weakest area he still dominated you in your strongest area, once upon a time," the Quincy whispered.

Ichigo sighed. "This is the stupidest thing I've ever done, but fine. I have an idea…"

A plain of consciousness away, Isshin Kurosaki was furiously punching numbers into a phone.

"Ryūken! I've been trying to call you. It's urgent." Isshin yelled into the receiver.

"I'm busy Kurosaki, I don't have time for-" Ryūken responded impatiently.

"He's not waking up!" Isshin screeched, voice cracking.

"What?" Ryūken's voice trembled.

"Ichigo's not waking up. I brought him home and he's not waking up."

"Stay there, I'm coming." A _click_ and Isshin was left listening to an empty line.

A dimension away, the Captain of the 5th Division observed a wrapped bundle topped with orange hair being passed into the arms of an irate Quincy. A tiny arm hung limply from between layers, pale and unmoving. Red bands had been tied around the boy's wrist, they rushed down sterile hallway of the hospital.

"You idiot, why didn't you call me sooner?" The Quincy demanded, lifting the boy's eyelids midstride, for yet another time.

"There wasn't any reason to call you sooner!" Was screamed back by the father.

"Your wife is dead, mine is in a coma and you seriously think that your son being unresponsive is normal?" Snarling, Ryūken flung open a room with a single made bed and deposited the human parcel onto it. "Quincies do not survive their powers being reclaimed."

"Your son did."

" _My_ son is not currently unresponsive and on the verge of death."

Ichigo was still unresponsive. Not so much as an eyelid twitched as abuse was volleyed between the men.

Neither Gin or Kaname had access to this room filled with monitors and likely neither would for a period of time longer. Aizen's fingers danced across his keyboard, cycling through his cameras. Pausing, he zoomed in on the slackened features of the nine-year-old's face which were drawn together in a scowl in his unconsciousness. Not a hint of movement indicative of REM sleep.

Aizen remained observing as he had since the disquieting moment Masaki Kurosaki had fallen to the Grand Fisher. Her powers abruptly vanishing as she made a last-ditch attempt to shield her son from the Hollow in the only way she could. She, who had swatted a Hollow capable of felling Captains, perished to a Hollow of no notable ability. For fifty odd years the Grand Fisher had roamed as one of Aizen's more elusive creations, defying Shinigami and Quincy alike with its reiatsu cloaking capabilities. Its presence at the river had not been intended or noticed until far too late. Aizen's fingers briefly flexed and extended outwards.

Unease had hounded the Shinigami since the boy been discovered under the corpse of his mother. Masaki Kurosaki's body had been taken with a string of well-practiced excuses delivered to the human authorities and Ichigo Kurosaki, still covered in his mother's blood, had been hastily removed from sight. Like a sack of potatoes, he had been slung over his father's shoulder and taken back to the clinic

Bathed and dressed, nothing had the effect of waking the boy from slumber. Frantic attempts to rouse him only ended in failure, each attempt more despondent than the last. Isshin's twins had been sent elsewhere once realisation had set in for the lacklustre father. From Aizen's views elsewhere, all of the mixed Quincy had been felled in a single blow by the light which had descended upon them. Some had died instantly and others were as catatonic as the child before him. Ichigo's struggling breaths indicated that he was to be counted amongst them and slowly fade away.

Hours passed and no progress was made on either Ichigo Kurosaki or the Quincy's wife.

Unwrapped from the coverings, Ichigo was carefully handled into a hospital gown by a shaking Ryūken. X-ray after x-ray was taken. Soon after, a drip was placed in his arm as the Quincy sunk metaphorical heels into the ground as he was dragged towards inevitability. Ishida's volatility grew with his frustration as attempt after attempt at treatment failed.

A week crept by and Aizen remained watching. Gin questioned his absence once. It had not happened a second time, with Gin carefully avoiding such topics.

Ichigo Kurosaki was thinner now, skin and bone compared to his once well-fed self. Kanae Ishida was in much the same condition in the next room over. Together the two of them wasted away, remaining tethered to life only through human technology. Gin's queries became less frequent while Aizen's only grew as he watched and waited as he had for the nine years beforehand. This time he was not in possession of the answers he so desperately sought, locked away as they were in the archives of the Central 46, which even his hypnosis could only assist so much to avoid detection. Kurotsuchi's records were devoid of any information on such phenomena as well.

Unsurprisingly, Isshin Kurosaki was nowhere to be seen as his eldest remained in limbo. The only constant was the Quincy doctor who worked without sleep and the Shinigami who watched from so far away.

The Quincy's son, Uryū, had been allowed to visit both comatose patients even as the father worked, breaking loose of his grandfather's grip.

"Dad, who is he?" Was asked by the child.

"Our cousin."

No more was said and the child split his time between the two rooms. Dark haired and of a similar age to Ichigo Kurosaki, he kept vigil over both. Uryū spoke into the air, of his day, of his grandfather, of sewing with his mother and of anything that came to mind. Neither replied, but he persisted in spite of their dwindling conditions. It would be Ichigo's sole comfort in the cold and empty room provided if some inkling of awareness remained within the child.

Another two months of the same passed. Gin's asking expression became more and more apparent as desperation to know Aizen's whereabouts set in. Kaname had done the opposite and stepped back, ever careful not to overstep his boundaries.

The moment Aizen had been expecting had finally come. A haggard Ryūken Ishida lifted the receiver of his phone.

"Kurosaki, come over here as soon as possible. We have urgent matters to discuss." _Click._

It was a speech Aizen had been expecting from the moment of admission. It still grated to hear it spoken from one who knew the true severity of the affliction.

"I can't do any more, Kurosaki," the Quincy said, taking a long draw on his cigarette in the spacious and green courtyard of the hospital. They sat perched upon a bench in the centre of paved space. Other patients, blissfully ignorant of the conversation taking place, passed them. "Nothing's working. They're already starting to develop muscle atrophy even while being stimulated. That's not even mentioning the amount of blood thinners they're on."

"Then why am I here?" Isshin asked.

"Now's not the time to play the idiot, Kurosaki. It's to make the decision that all families of terminally ill patients must one day make. Whether or not we have them suffer through the affliction or we let them go peacefully." An exhale of smoke. "We probably should have let them go in the first week. It would have been kinder."

"It's too soon," Isshin murmured.

"It's always too soon, Kurosaki. Despite what I tell my patients, it never gets any better. They pass away and more often than not leave their spirit behind, chained down with regrets, to be collected by some useless Shinigami."

"Do we have any way to send them on? I could find someone..." Isshin asked.

"There's nothing left to send on Isshin. Everything not already taken will be reclaimed by the Quincy King. Quincy and victims of Quincy don't leave anything behind. I'm sorry." Ishida walked away, wiping a sleeve along the bottom rim of his glasses. Isshin Kurosaki sat there, unmoving and staring blankly ahead.

Nine years would be washed away in an instant once Isshin made the decision he was entitled to do so under the laws of the living. And make the decision he would, for there was no prospect of improvement for either patient. The other Quincy affected had been left to perish by their families, who did so with the knowledge that there would be no prospects of a cure. Ichigo would share the same fate.

A week more passed and Isshin was still undecided. He deflected every phone call, ignored every enquiry. At times he would vanish into Urahara's domain, only to emerge more distressed than before.

Then the unexpected happened. Aizen bolted to attention and a twitch of eyelids became apparent. Ichigo Kurosaki moved. Aizen released a breath he'd hardly been aware of holding. A breath that had perhaps lasted close to three months.

Another spasm and the orange haired child opened his eyes. Staring blankly, he dragged himself into a sitting position. A skeletal hand reached out and caught the stand of his IV drip and with effort the boy swung his through the sheets and over the edge of the bed. With more effort still, he stood and inched towards the door, one tiny step at a time. Dragging his feet, Ichigo crossed the threshold and stepped into the hallway. It was one of the most remarkable scenes Aizen had witnessed in his recent memory.

Another pained series of steps and Ichigo, still staring blankly, stood before Kanae Ishida.

Sitting in a chair nearby, Uryū Ishida jumped to his feet with a start, jaw hanging open. "You're awake!" He rushed over to the orange haired boy and latched onto one thin arm.

There was no reply as Ichigo hobbled closer to the catatonic woman.

Gently tugging on the sleeve of the gown, the child Quincy began to insist, "please, sit down, you're going to fall. Please. Can you even hear me? Please sit." Still frantically tugging, the dark haired boy insisted, but there was no response.

Ichigo Kurosaki paid him no mind and extended out his right hand towards the centre of Kanae's Ishida's sternum. A split second of contact and Aizen's surveillance only captured a blue surging flare. It flickered and went out, fried by the surge. A reserve camera was sent in.

"Dad!" Uryū yelled.

Ryūken Ishida arrived almost instantaneously in a flicker of light to find his son crying, crouched on the floor and hovering over an unconscious Ichigo Kurosaki. Ichigo was face down and unmoving. Kurosaki's hand which had touched Kanae Ishida was clenched shut. Perhaps most surprisingly for the Quincy was that his wife, fully alert and sitting upright in her bed of two months, was crying too as she called his name.

"Ryūken, please, help him up!" She called as best as she was able, even as both father and son stared agape at the conscious woman before them. With an urgency hardly seen in the Sereitei, Ryūken spirited Ichigo back into his bed and once more began observations. Once Ichigo was safely positioned, the man returned to the room of his wife at the same speed.

The impromptu funeral arrangements came to a grinding halt and Isshin was called back to the hospital.

"What happened?" Isshin asked, utterly dumfounded.

"Your son woke up, walked to my wife's room and placed his hand on her heart. He was unresponsive to Uryū's attempts to have him sit down. There was a surge of blue reiatsu and your son collapsed. My wife was awake and crying when I arrived," Ryūken responded numbly.

"So you didn't see that coming?" Isshin asked hesitantly.

"Kurosaki, what your son just did will no doubt make Quincy folklore with him being a purveyor of miracles. What he did shouldn't have been possible. In any manner. Anywhere. At all. Ever."

"Just how impossible are we talking here?"

Ryūken ran a finely fingered hand down his face. "He gave her back her Quincy powers. Only one person should be capable of such a feat and he is the one who left them in such a state in the first place. Potentially he could help others in Kanae's position, but only if he survives helping her in the first place." Ryūken shook his head, gazing distantly at Isshin. "More concerning though is the implication of what he can do if he has such abilities."

Isshin only frowned. A dimension away Aizen did the same, a steaming cup of tea sitting untouched as the hysteria played out before him. A strange tension hovered about him, something which hadn't been the case for almost a decade.

Ichigo Kurosaki's sleep, contrasting to his previous state of being, could only be called restless. He rolled over, clenching at a thick blanket. Every few minutes he would thrash and alter his position. Curiously, the other hand remained clenched and out of sight, tucked deep within the covers.

It wasn't long before Isshin strode in with Ryūken, embroiled in a screaming match.

"I told you I didn't know how long it'd take him to recover!"

"Well, I told you to tell me if anything changed!"

Almost nose to nose, the Quincy and Shinigami glared each other down.

"Can you two-," a pause, "-just stop?" A quiet and hoarse voice asked. "All I hear is you two yelling at each other and something about a funeral." Aizen smirked, while the two adults turned red.

"Ichiiiiigoooooo," Isshin exclaimed pathetically, "that's no way to speak to your dad."

"I thought he was my dad," Ichigo said in a thoroughly disinterested tone of voice, pointing at Ryūken. Aizen snorted loudly, cup of tea balanced precariously in a shaking hand. Isshin took his cue to burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs and flee from the room.

"My son doesn't love meeeeeeeeeeeeeee." Echoed from some distance down the hallway. Two people present and one person in the Sereitei rolled their eyes in response

Ryuken and Ichigo watched him go in silence.

"Has he," Ichigo struggled, "been like that the whole time? He seems pretty happy to escape."

"I would have banned him from the hospital permanently if he behaved like that in a consistent manner. It's absolutely appalling behaviour."

"Including treatment?"

"Especially for treatment," the Quincy scowled. "Speaking of treatment, how do you feel?"

"Tired. Sore. Aches. Everywhere hurts." Ichigo said quietly.

Ichigo Kurosaki was without doubt in some kind of pain, shifting uncomfortably as if no single place gave him any relief. Prior restlessness explained by the wasting of his muscles even as young as he was from being in such a position. Ichigo's attempt to shift into a sitting position was cut short by a hiss as he reached an arm behind him to hold a shoulder.

"Unfortunately that'll likely be the atrophy. I'll order some pain relief for you. In all honesty, Ichigo-kun, we weren't expecting you to wake up… so soon after what happened." Ichigo looked at Ryūken with a mildly perturbed expression.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"Just nearing three months. My son has been keeping you company."

"I," Ichigo frowned with concentration, "missed graduation? I don't remember anything about school at all... What year am I even in?"

"Don't stress over it," the Quincy said gently. "What's important is that we make sure you've recovered before we worry about anything else."

"Okay."

"I'll get your painkillers and be right back."

The door closed with a snap and Ichigo remained sitting up in his bed, looking alertly around the room.

For a split second, a dimension away, Aizen's eyes met Ichigo's through lenses as Ichigo stared for a moment at the drone. Dull brown eyes blinked lethargically, half lidded. Baby fat had melted away to show cheekbones that shouldn't have been visible at such an age. So small and battered, he wouldn't have been out of place in the Rukongai as yet another starving soul. Only a moment, and the child blinked and looked away.

Aizen closed his eyes. An idea was within contemplation. Perhaps a moment of observation beyond instruments would allow the clarification he required. Gin and Kaname would not be required for his brief excursion.

Through the flickering of the screen he saw the Quincy return with a kidney dish and numerous needles. As politely as possible while in agony, the boy declined the offer of a hand to hold. Ichigo's expression never changed throughout the injections into both himself and the drip.

Ryūken gently squeezed Ichigo's fingers instead. "Would you like a proper shower once the medication starts working?" He asked kindly.

Ichigo nodded in the affirmative and the Quincy left the room.

It was here Aizen stood and swept from the room, a black cloak in hand from a shelf nearby. With a single step he re-appeared at the 5th Division barracks. Gin Ichimaru, smiling broadly as ever, sat waiting for him.

"Ah, Aizen-taichō, been busy?" Gin asked brightly.

"Somewhat," Aizen indifferently replied. Gin would remain ignorant until his presence was required. "It has been somewhat persistent, Gin, admittedly, but hopefully it is a matter that will resolve shortly. Our usual arrangements should be adequate."

Aizen donned the cloak, drew Kyōka Suigetsu and vanished.


	2. Precedent

**Chapter 2 – Precedent**

It was laughably easy to access Kisuke Urahara's archives. A detachment of Menos Grande had been sent to the approximate location of the Kurosaki household and Urahara and company had gone running to assist Isshin Kurosaki. Aizen had subsequently slipped in through the front door and quietly made his way through the shop to the vault of information concealed in the back. Treading carefully, he stepped around a pile of discarded materials. Pausing for a moment, he observed a jar filled with Quincy arrows with a raised eyebrow. Elsewhere, a plain white material sat pushed to a side of a workbench in a partially carved block. Crates of intermingled candy and Gigai spilled onto the floor, as though they'd been haphazardly launched into storage rather than placed with any care. One particular dummy had been shoved upside down into a crate marked with a large skull and crossbones with "IF YOU WANT TO DIE THEN PLEASE STICK YOUR SWORD INTO IT ^^" scrawled across in utterly abysmal handwriting. Without pausing any further, he reached his destination.

A few taps at a console later revealed that Urahara too was at a loss as to what had happened to the Quincy. Months of copious input from experiments conducted with the Quincy Heilig Pfeil was present. Every instance of testing with other substances to create a binding effect had resulted in abject failure. No mention had been made of contacting any of the remaining Quincy for further information. Ichigo Kurosaki was deemed beyond help by any means that Urahara or his associates could offer. Urahara had recommended that Isshin's son be "taken off any life sustaining means and be left to pass naturally" and that the same should be done for Ishida's wife. Fortunately, it was advice that had been ignored as the entry had been made but a month into Ichigo Kurosaki's catatonic state. _Fool._

A week of lost time through the Dangai for precisely as little information as he had before on the Quincy specifics. It was a shame Aizen didn't have more time to peruse the offerings of the database, but such a task was for another day. The detachment of Hollows was rapidly disappearing from his sensory awareness so Aizen left to complete the other reason for his visit.

His observations prior to travel indicated that Ichigo Kurosaki would not be leaving Karakura Hospital in anything remotely resembling a timely manner. Tracing his whereabouts through conventional sensory methods would alert Urahara and the others of his presence, as would hastily wielding Kyōka Suigetsu to cover any such attempts. Sensory perceptions relating to Reiatsu such as the faint traces left behind by his zanpakutō were not concealed by his natural abilities.

Indeed, his suspicions were confirmed as he flickered into view and found the boy in question sitting on same bench where the boy's father and cousin sat arguing only weeks prior. Browning leaves were dropping in the autumn air. Leaning against a nearby tree, Aizen simply watched. While a great deal less thin than his bedridden state, Ichigo's movements were still hampered. With slow and deliberate motions reminiscent of an old man, the boy rolled his shoulders. Arms and legs were extended with care before being retracted. A scowl across the child's face indicated that it was not being done in a state of comfort.

After the fifth repetition, Ichigo extended a hand and held it aloft. Aizen could feel the air itself shift as the Reishi in courtyard dislodged. Ichigo's arm trembled, a softly glowing ball of blue light forming in that single hand. The boy experimentally tossed it upwards, where it grew dense, faded edge lines becoming solid. It fell back into his hands with a gentle _smack_. Another toss, this time it landed in his other hand and wobbled as Ichigo stabilised it, refining edges back to a solid. Another toss, this time caught with both hands. Ichigo stretched the ball outwards and it ballooned into a size equivalent to a soccer ball.

Aizen watched the proto-Kidō with interest as it pulsated wildly. Ichigo forced it back into the size of a tennis ball and it glowed a blinding white. Without further ado, Ichigo turned to face Aizen's general direction and threw it. It left the boy's hand at speed. Aizen angled himself slightly, and it blew past, expanding as it travelled. Missing his cloak's hem by an inch, it impacted. Behind him, a tree's remaining leaves were blasted off in a halo of light, curling and burning in the air. Aizen himself was pushed against the bark of his own tree. In the cover of the rush of wind he exhaled quietly, lips twisting upwards. "Clever boy," he murmured into the gale.

Yet Ichigo had not turned his head from Aizen, nor had he summoned another orb. Instead he squinted directly at Aizen, brown eyes narrowing with suspicion. _A coincidence or does he know I'm here_? Aizen wondered. Between the Reiatsu suppressing properties and the weaved in Kidō, the cloak should have rendered him just about invisible.

Aizen, in a decision he would later reflect back on, waited. The urge to unseal Kyōka Suigetsu was absent as the orange mop of hair slowly made its way over. He could have pulled the blade and, in an instant, erased himself from all means of common perception. It lacked appeal for this was the first time anyone had taken note of him while cloaked. Whatever impulse had prompted his visit also stayed his hand for he could only watch, transfixed, as Ichigo made it to the tree and outstretched a pale hand. Groping generally in Aizen's direction, the boy edged forward until Aizen felt a gentle tug on the garment. As though reeling in a fish, the boy continued to pull along the invisible folds of cloth and Aizen felt a vice-like grip close around his arm. His limp arm was lifted and prodded by another finger, as though to confirm that it was real.

"How did you make yourself invisible?" The little boy asked, still holding on. Perhaps he had expected Aizen to vanish. It would have been a reasonable option, but it was not the option Aizen had taken.

Closing his entrapped hand around his captor's wrist, Aizen pulled Ichigo into the confines of his illusion. "I used Kidō," he said simply while holding Ichigo to one side. "I wrapped light around me to create the illusion of empty space. Mitigation of sound can done similarly by creating a barrier preventing its travel through the air. The same for preventing particles can be used to prevent scents from escaping."

Ichigo blinked, seemingly unaffected by the appearance of someone from thin air. "Is that the only way you can do it?" Aizen raised an eyebrow, he had been expecting a "why".

"You're a curious one, aren't you? There are other methods, but those tend to rely strongly upon direct alterations of sensory functions." A surreptitious scan of the surroundings reminded Aizen that perhaps this wasn't the most ideal location for such a conversation. "Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere?" Aizen queried, and with a nod of Ichigo's head, he lifted Ichigo's far too light form into his arms and vanished again before the squawk of protest could register .

The unlikely pair came to a rest within a thick wooded area just beyond the outskirts of Karakura Town. Aizen placed Ichigo back onto the ground and watched him blink at the radically altered surroundings. Ichigo ambled to the lip of pond at the centre of Aizen's chosen clearing and sat without ceremony. Audible relief could be heard when Ichigo settled into the soft grass.

"So," Ichigo said, as though they hadn't crossed to the other side of the town in a single step, "other methods?"

"Are you not curious as to why I'm here?" Aizen prodded, as he took a seat opposite, shedding the hood of his cloak.

"Not really. Lots of weird people visit Karakura Town. The illusions are different though. I haven't seen those before."

"What have you seen before?"

"Hollows, Quincy, some blond guy who dresses like he came from the Fifties, random spirits, dad trying to be human and sucking at it, a weirdo that wears a haori and clogs everywhere, some spirit medium who's accidentally been making Hollows and you," Ichigo gestured apathetically. "None of them hide though. I don't think they know how to hide. You're the only one that's bothered to hide at all. Well, hidden and not tried to eat me," he added as an afterthought, "though the random watching is pretty weird in its own right too".

"Admittedly, that's not the reasoning I expected. I expected a human to be more unaware of the affairs of spirits."

"Sōken Ishida filled me in about a week ago after I woke up. He was kinda outraged that no one did it sooner and said that I should know about everyone who comes and goes. I wish I met him sooner." The week that Aizen had unfortunately missed while within the Dangai.

"Did his instructions extend to asking for names of those passing by?"

"I can't tell anyone that you were here if I don't know your name. You're hiding for a reason, right?"

"My designation, then?" Aizen asked with humour, electing to skip the confirmation that he was hiding from anyone.

"Some guy." An impatient shrug. "So yeah, you were saying before? I don't think we have too long before someone notices me missing." Ichigo pressed with an undercurrent of urgency. On the other side of town, the diminishing amount of Hollow Reiatsu reinforced those concerns.

"True enough, but I can cover for you for a little while at the very least." Even if the little while in question exposed him to discovery. "The latter illusions to which you expressed an interest do more than simply create an external reference point projection to deceive your target. This particular type of illusion more readily interferes with the brain of the victim to simulate or adjust various sensory distortions."

"So, you directly mess with their brain signals to change what they perceive?" He certainly was a smart boy.

"Indeed. In order to have an effect on such a delicate organ you must gain access to it through some means. The eyes of most creatures, Shinigami, Hollow, Quincy or otherwise are particularly vulnerable to penetration by Reiatsu in such an area as well as the eyes being an extension of the brain itself. For my purposes, it's highly convenient." Aizen smiled widely, showing numerous teeth.

"But the eyes aren't a necessity, they just make it easier?" Ichigo nodded.

"Correct again. Time is of the essence as vital opportunities may be lost while establishing your access point, hence the eyes are the simplest form of access."

"Do you ever need to re-establish it or does it just stay open?"

Stretching briefly, Aizen dedicated a moment of consideration towards the question. "An interesting question." Not one that Aizen ever had to contemplate or explain before either, so it went in the Sereitei. "With sufficient Reiatsu the first exposure is generally permanent or as close to permanent as is reasonably possible. Humans may function differently to spirits who vary quite substantially with their anatomy, so perhaps not for them. You would have to test it, something plausible enough to attract attention but not something so obvious so as to immediately alert them of the illusion."

"Like a fly."

"Yes, like a fly." It was somewhat amusing that Aizen hadn't thought of it first given his preoccupation for the past three months. Then again, with Kyōka Suigetsu he never really had a need to test the effectiveness of his hypnosis. His zanpakutō never forgot those subject to the release. Aizen himself seldom forgot them either for less flattering reasons. "I doubt you will have any issues saturating your opponent to create such an access point." Indeed, the result of his experiment sitting opposite had already deluged Aizen under a dense yet comfortable Reiatsu of an almost indiscernible nature. A lesser being would have been crushed.

"What are the risks of using too much?"

"With the nature of your Reiatsu, I would suspect an unpleasant cessation of existence." Unsurprisingly, the child cringed.

"Yeah, that'd be bad."

"Illusions in and of themselves require delicate balance, not just to prevent unwanted harm, but to prevent the discovery of the illusion. It would be best to start with a more common type of projection, then move to the subtler methodology," Aizen coaxed.

Coaxing that apparently hadn't been needed, for Ichigo shrugged and -"sure, you're the expert. You tell me."

"You're not worried about the quality of the information?" Probing.

"Not really. If you aren't as good as you think you are then I can try to remake whatever you showed me to work it out myself. Every lie has a grain of truth. That's what I have to do with everyone around here anyway from what Sōkken said. I don't think there's an honest spirit in this town."

"You seem somewhat resigned to it."

"Well, it's either that or beating everyone senseless. I don't think that'd go well for me in the long run." With the the child boasting a size smaller than Sarugaki, Aizen could believe it.

"Fair enough. Now, I suppose sight would be the way to start?"

There were few users of the illusionary arts. Fewer still were available for notes on technique to be exchanged and the art of deception was one that was fading rapidly from the realm of the common arts. Had it been more common, Aizen doubted that he would have remained undiscovered for over two centuries. Someone would have seen the signs. Signs, that as it turned out, his impromptu student was remarkably adept at reading and implementing.

Sight had hardly been an obstacle at all, with Ichigo handily shaping a lily as Aizen walked him through the steps of laying an illusion. Starting with a simple white shape, depth and colour were weaved in as more and more body was added to the form. Before long, a convincing flower sat in the boy's hands after much nit-picking of details. Unusually, there was little argument or snappiness as would be the usual response to any of teaching, but a prompt, if tired, obedience.

The next was feeling, as "an illusion that does not sit convincingly within its environment is useless".

"If someone blows on it then it should move?"

"Precisely."

As a more abstract concept, it was one that took Ichigo slightly longer to achieve, but with a helping of Reiatsu the flower became tangible. Or at least provided the impression of it for there was no flower at all, but a highly convincing selection of air registering within his mind as being a flower. With a breath, Ichigo blew on it, sending it floating into Aizen's own grip.

"What am I missing?"

Aizen stroked the construct, his fingers coming into contract with a non-quite smooth obstruction that flexed inwards as pressure was placed on it. "Some finer points of texture, but it will come with practice. A worthy first attempt."

Lulled, Aizen directed Ichigo through the projection of the remaining areas of hearing, taste and smell. By the end of his instruction Aizen helded a remarkably realistic replication of a lily of the valley. It sat delicately in his hand, an insubstantial construction of Reiatsu tethered to a few tiny threads which gave it form only in his mind. Had he not been completely enveloped in the boy's energies, he would have simply held air.

"I wasn't expecting this degree of success," Aizen admitted to his experiment. "Most first attempts aren't so convincing. Do you have any prior instruction?"

"Nope, nothing. Everyone assumes I'm an idiot and don't bother trying to teach me anything properly. I ask for some help, but I get laughed off. Doesn't matter what it's for either. These illusions are fairly similar to the ball I made earlier, only less Reiatsu, more design. Kinda like art class, but without the teacher calling me a punk every five minutes. I'm slow making them because everything I seem to do wants to explode."

"Yes, that is rather unfortunate if no one is willing to provide adequate teaching. Control is also a common problem given the delicacy required for competent crafting of such a nuanced Kidō." And with such a large portion of the Sereitei's most incompetent Shinigami and obfuscating Quincy it was little wonder that his experiment was making a solo effort. "The more illusions you craft the more familiar you will become with the amount of energy they require and, just as importantly, the amount of energy that other people expect."

"Basically, I need to keep trying until I can hold it in my sleep," Ichigo sighed.

"If you can manage that then you will be the second who has managed such a thing."

"Is that because it's hard or because you can count the illusionists around one hand?"

"You are a shrewd one, aren't you? Both are correct."

"Not as shrewd as I'd like." A closed expression ended the line of enquiry before there was a chance to pursue it further.

"Do you want this back?" Aizen asked instead, holding out the lily.

"Want what? There's nothing there," the boy said bluntly. "You can keep it if you want. Probably better if I make more for practice."

"Why the interest in such an area? Interest in my field of expertise is rather uncommon, regardless of species. You're the first person to so much as question the techniques themselves let alone the specifics that go towards their application." Pieces of the puzzle that were just beyond his reach. Aizen himself was a candidate for the Maggot's Nest long before any of his extra-curricular activities, purely on the basis of Kyōka Suigetsu's powers. He had never met anyone with abilities similar to his own for good reason. The amount of naïve souls locked below the 2nd Division were probably too numerous to count.

"It's because of Uryū's grandpa," Ichigo said gloomily. "After I found out about what happened to mum, he came in to talk to me. Told me about where Quincies get their powers from." Abruptly, the petals in Aizen's hands began to wilt.

"Oh?" Aizen asked, willing the petals back into life.

"Quincies get their powers from the Quincy King," Ichigo began to explain, a dark expression crossing his already grim face. "He infects people with his soul to give them powers and then takes it back to feed himself. Not just what he gave them, but all of their soul and it kills them," he grimaced. "When Quincies, uh, destroy a soul with their powers then that soul goes straight to the King. He's like a giant blood sucking leech, you know, if leeches gave you the ability to see dead people and shoot arrows at them." Ichigo leaned in towards Aizen. "The guy's a _huge_ bastard."

"Language," Aizen chided, but failed to prevent the smirk from forming on his face. "You wish to deny him those souls. What better way than to do so then through misdirection?" Aizen said, almost to himself. An oddly poetic reason. "Yes," he whispered, "I believe I can assist you in that endeavour. You aren't bothered by the effects of such techniques upon other people?" Aizen asked lightly.

"Not really. People don't need illusions to misdirect people. Illusions help with it, but it's not like they're the root of everything bad in themselves," Ichigo shrugged. "Like, it'd be a bit of a stretch for, say, my dad to have a go at illusionists after he lied to me for nine years about the spirits I was seeing. We have plenty of magicians over here who use sleight of hand and trick people for entertainment. Part of the fun is working out how the magician did the illusion. It's pretty popular in America. People pay good money for it." Oblivious to the dumbfounding affect the information had on Aizen, Ichigo carried on. "The problem isn't the illusions, it's the intent of the person carrying out the illusion. I'm tired of people doing things because it supposedly helps me. They do it because it helps themselves." Aizen found himself being pointedly looked up and down with the utterance of the last sentence.

"It's a sensitive topic for you. My apologies for raising it." Not that Aizen truly was sorry, for if he hadn't he doubt he ever would have learnt of humans misleading each other for profit and pleasure.

"You're not sorry for raising it. No one really is, it's not like their mum died when it happened," came the bitter response, blazing through Aizen's platitudes with a refreshing quality. "Yeah, mum died because I couldn't tell the difference between the living and the dead. All because they wanted to pretend that nothing happened before I was born," Ichigo looked upwards. "He wasn't protecting me, only himself. That Hollow could've turned up at school and mum wouldn't have been there to save me. No one would have been there. I'd have been eaten and they probably would've carried on like nothing happened. If dad did that for mum, it probably would've been worse for me." Disconcerting was Ichigo speaking of his father's indifference towards him. Something that was accepted as a given rather than a childish assumption. "He'd care more if my sisters were involved." A pause, "I hope".

Mechanically, Aizen gently patted the boy on the shoulder. Uncertainty was a factor in all experiments. Factoring in a father's disregard for his son was one he had perhaps overlooked too quickly. "I've always found it best to view the world as it should be, rather than tolerate its flaws as present. In an ideal world, you would have been told and your mother might still be alive today. While you cannot change what has happened, there's always the potential of preventing its reoccurrence."

"In an ideal world, the Quincy King would be a puddle being scraped off the floor."

"That too," Aizen allowed with a smirk. "A change of topic, if you wouldn't mind as our time is running out."

"Go for it."

"I explained how the illusions worked, now there's something that's eating away at my curiosity. How did you know that I was there? The properties of my cloak should leave me well beyond detection." Aizen asked, caressing the white flower he'd been given. Tiny threads of black and red Reiatsu clung to his fingers as he pulled away.

A small frown, then – "I felt you standing there. Not real you, but the space you should have been in. I felt the missing space and decided to have a look," Ichigo shrugged. "I figured that if anything was going to eat me then it would have done it already."

"You're the only person who's ever noticed there being an absence."

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, "is everyone else blind?"

Aizen inclined his head. "Probably. It's a lean towards wilful blindness. To give you the equivalence, sensing of Reiatsu to such a degree for a Shinigami is the equivalent to a human using their arm hair to detect airflow within a room. It simply isn't something even contemplated by the average Shinigami. Positive phenomena tend to be more highly regarded of than an absence of something."

A snort. "You just nailed how my old man works."

"It's not something that surprises me. Shinigami are notorious for their… dismissal of those with views differing to the decreed norm of the Sereitei. Their method of disposing of these differing ideas is rather extreme," Aizen said delicately.

"What, do they toss you into a prison or something? You tell them to do something differently then just vanish in the middle of the night and nobody asks questions because they don't want to end up in the cell next to you," came the casual reply. It was all Aizen could do to force down a struggling eyebrow that threatened to lift. "It's how every dictatorship works over here. Lots of humans have written books about it happening for real and talk about it in fiction."

"I see that humans have already mastered that particular technique."

"If you want to read about it, I can give you some recommendations. We've been running and overthrowing them for twenty-thousand odd years. Probably longer, but written history doesn't go back that far."

"The Sereitei hasn't had a change in government for thousands of years," Aizen commented idly. "It's rather traditionalistic in that regard."

"Someone should probably do something about that if it's causing problems," Ichigo said bluntly. "Over here we vote out people we don't like. Other countries have riots."

"Revolutionaries are hunted down and killed by the Onmitsukidō at the behest of the Central 46. If only dealing with the nobles was as simple as a matter of voting. A… colleague of mine has frequently expressed dissatisfaction with the behaviour of the nobles, but having it acknowledged as a problem is beyond the abilities of most. Too many benefit from their own noble heritage to truly want to see the system undone."

"Oh well, if it's not fixed in eighty years I'll see if I can do something about it," the nine-year old said rather seriously. "Explosions fix everything," he nodded.

Aizen leaned forward and ruffled Ichigo's hair, not for any reason other than to prevent an open display of surprise. "I wouldn't tell them that if I were you."

"Is that because you'll be in the cell next to me?"

"No, no," Aizen dismissed casually, "they will simply grant me a public execution."

"Well, there's a reason to reach old age if there was ever one… Can't imagine a place where we aren't allowed to even make fun of those sorts people."

Coughing, Aizen noticed a shadow creep towards them as the sun began to set. "I think I have overstayed my welcome. Would you like me to take you back to your bed before your family notices your absence?"

"My dad wouldn't notice me dying. I'll point you to the corridor."

Picking up the hybrid for a second time that day, Aizen vanished. As he did so, the illusionary lily was slipped into a pocket.

Aizen paused in the hospital corridor as per Ichigo's directions.

"Which room is yours?"

"The one on the left – hey!"

Fighting the half-hearted struggles of the boy in his arms, Aizen leisurely made his away across the threshold of Ichigo Kurosaki's sterile hospital room. With exaggerated care, Aizen deposited Ichigo between the sheets and tucked him in.

"This is weird. Even dad hasn't tucked me in ages," Ichigo grumbled, but not resisting.

"His loss. He should be more considerate of such things when it comes to raising children." Considerate enough to realise that his son regarded him with irritation at the best of times.

All he heard was snort in response and something that sounded suspiciously close to a "not likely". "Oh well, I'm going to sleep. Thanks for answering my questions," the boy mumbled. "Don't get caught and you should've brought a teapot." And he rolled over, snuggling into his sheets.

"It was my privilege. Good night." And Aizen was gone.

In the confines of his inner wold, Ichigo looked at his zanpakutō spirits.

"You know, Your Majesty, when I told you to ask Aizen for help I wasn't being serious," Zangetsu said in an awestruck voice. "What possessed you to actually go over to him?"

"Oh shut up." Ichigo crossed his arms. "I was curious to see if he'd bail or not. I didn't think he'd just wait for me. I'm pretty sure he never visited in person last time."

"He didn't really have much of a reason to until he sent Short Stuff in as bait. He probably got bored. Or maybe he just thought you were pathetic and needed real problems to worry about. Like me!" Zangetsu cackled.

"Your skills have changed. Before you wouldn't have been able to sense the absence of his presence," the Quincy spoke from behind the Hollow.

"But now that I'm not totally hopeless, I can?" Ichigo hazarded a guess.

"That and you're showing signs of having some weird ass abilities a lot earlier now. Three months in a coma then seemingly cheating death and giving Arrow Lad's mother her powers back? Let's be honest, it's Aizen. The guy was probably drooling before you even saw him."

"Can you _stop_ with the food imagery and Aizen? It's creepy as hell."

"If only you knew. But hey, now we don't completely suck for at least one part of Shinigami magic."

"Yeah, a highly illegal part. None of this stuff was even in any of the recommended reading materials I saw for Kidō. Those have names and incantations, but what he showed me isn't like that at all. It's like this stuff was all about instinct, like…" Ichigo fumbled.

"Like using a zanpakutō," Zangetsu helpfully finished. "We exerted Reiatsu and moulded it until it felt, smelt, looked, sounded and tasted real. We even put of coat of concealer to hide our Reiatsu on it. How much do you wanna bet that it's the same approach Aizen takes with Kyōka Suigetsu?" Zangetsu leaned back, exposing a shark-like smile.

"It's not the same application, though. Aizen needs to have people see his release for them to be vulnerable to the illusions. It's sight based. Ours are more…"

"Come into contact with our Reiatsu and you're screwed, which is a notch more on the effectiveness scale," the sword finished. "His powers work the same subject to Kyōka Suigetsu's rules of sighting the release. Ours has a bigger downside though. If you get distracted it screws with the illusions. That ain't the case for Aizen with Kyōka Suigetsu doing all the heavy lifting for him as far as the actual illusions are concerned. He can get knocked out and his spirit takes care of maintenance by default. Neither me or the old man know anything about that crap. The most we can do is amplify whatever you make so it lasts."

"So it's the same methodology, but a modified application."

"The weave of the Kidō feels similar to the one surrounding his cloak," the Quincy remarked. "Presumably he has lesser need of it given the convenience of his inherent powers. Maintaining realism will simply be a matter of practice. Perhaps you can develop some exercises to manage the weakness in your technique."

"We have to pass whatever test he puts us through when he comes back, as well," Zangetsu groaned. "This is gonna suck."

"Oh crap, he is coming back, isn't he?" Ichigo paled.

"After the impression you just left, I'm surprised that he didn't just pick you up and abscond the moment you gave him that flower. Hell, he might even bring the teapot next time and you two can whinge about how much Soul Society sucks even more."

"It didn't go that well," Ichigo tried to deny, a thrill of dread shooting down his spine.

"Kingo, I don't think he's willingly had skin contact with anyone let alone tucked someone into bed for the entire length of his life. But hey, on the bright we're learning Kidō from the best of them!"

"Shit."

"Pretty much. The other bright side is that so long as Aizen's here he'll cover us from Urahara."

A pained groan was the only response.

Within the Sereitei, Aizen stepped out of the Dangai. An odd feeling wove its way through him, smoothing the edge of his contempt. Perhaps for a moment he could disregard the inhabitants of this place given the productivity of his excursion. Gin's almost immediate presence was of little deterrence to his mood as Aizen stashed his cloak and made his way back to the 5th Division barracks. All that remained from his outing was the delicate fold of cloth and the illusion of Ichigo's lily of the valley held within.

"Evening, Taichō, you've been real busy lately. Neither me or Tōusen have seen you properly months. Maybe your shadow," a leer, "but nothing else. What's that you're holding?"

Aizen smiled faintly, revealing the lifelike lily. "Something that requires a somewhat different approach."

"Ah, pretty, smells nice too. Highly poisonous to boot, gives people heart failure," Gin commented brightly as he looked over Aizen's shoulder as the flower was placed in a vase on a desk. If only Gin knew.

Reigning in a far too telling response, Aizen replied truthfully, "indeed, it's part of a project I'm working on. It's coming along beautifully."


End file.
